


Distractions

by TheBrilliantDarkness



Category: Dark Avengers (Comic), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Homophobic Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-14 00:04:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1245298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBrilliantDarkness/pseuds/TheBrilliantDarkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daken and his Sylveon put on a show for Lester in the middle of a board meeting. Lester is not amused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distractions

**Author's Note:**

> Pokemon AUs give me life. I've seen some great fanart featuring the DA and their Pokemon, as well as a bunch of fun headcanons - mine differ somewhat from the ones I've seen around, but variety is the spice of life and all that. :D
> 
> I have some more ideas for this silly AU, but they're more episodic than anything, so they'll probably just be posted as one-shots in a collection rather than as extra chapters on here (assuming I ever get around to writing them in the first place)~

It had hardly been two weeks since their assembly, but already Osborn had come to despise board meetings with his Avengers. Mac fidgeted, Karla and Lester were constantly interrupting, and Wolverine’s kid was hellbent on making bedroom eyes and provocative quips at anyone who cast a glance his way. The other members were less obnoxious, but still distracting in their own ways; Noh-Varr had his hand in the air near constantly to signal that he wanted to ask a question (Osborn cursed Hand for telling the alien that he could do so whenever he wanted clarification on something – this was an enforcement squad, not kindergarten); Ares’ sheer bulk and presence meant that an impressively exhaled breath had the rest of the Avengers looking to him, as if expecting some rousing words from the God of War; and the Sentry was, well… he was always scary, but, on the rare occasion that he did talk in meetings, a miasma of dread coursed through the room and held for several minutes. Osborn appreciated the effect – the less respectful members of the team would pipe down when the Sentry spoke – but he was not immune to the sense of unnerve that the immensely powerful man inflicted.

Furthermore, Osborn had enforced a ban on the team’s Pokémon after the very first board meeting, in the wake of a huge fight between Ares’ Haxorus, Karla’s Liepard and Lester’s Marowak – sparked, apparently, by Daken’s nasty little thing of a Mawile. The property damage had been disastrous, and the Liepard and Marowak would have needed serious medical attention at best had it not been for Ares having the presence of mind to recall his dragon before it could hack the smaller Pokémon to pieces.

The damned creatures could rip each other apart outside of the meetings, for all Osborn cared; as long as he had peace in the instances he had to associate with the assorted scum on his team, he was content.

Unfortunately, Daken broke the no-Pokémon rule only two meetings after it was set.

He was reclining in his seat at the back of the boardroom, leaning back far enough that he was partially obscured from Osborn’s view. He had his hands clasped together and held loosely over his abdomen and his usual expression – that quietly smug half-smile - spread across his face. His Sylveon was draped over his shoulders, purring as its ribbons curled around its master’s biceps and chest.

Lester spent a lot of time trying to avoid looking at Daken – in their short acquaintance, the guy had riled him up in all the wrong ways, and the threats of being forced off the team and back to Thunderbolts mountain were the only things keeping him from dragging the prissy little fuck somewhere private and enacting some violent fantasies he’d never see through to completion with anyone that didn’t have a healing factor. The problem Lester often faced was that it was very hard _not_ to look at Daken; there was something about him that drew the eye. It was in his fluid movement, the way he could make getting a glass of water or going down a flight of stairs or other such everyday bullshit look artful; it was in the deceptive softness of his voice, the way he spoke in a lull so quiet sometimes that you just _had_ to turn to him to ask him to repeat himself, or draw in closer to ensure you didn’t miss anything; most of all, Lester found himself looking at Daken because his mere presence in a room was like an unknowable ringing in the ear - maddening, distracting, frustrating.

It was particularly difficult to concentrate on anything but Daken when he had his faggy fairy Pokémon winding its creepy flesh tentacles around him. Sitting opposite Daken at the back end of the table, Lester noticed that the Pokémon was there some time before anyone else had realised – and as much as he would have _loved_ to get Daken into trouble immediately, he hated being a snitch, and he’d hoped Karla or wimpy little Mac would’ve noticed and called him out on it.

But then Daken locked eyes with him – and Lester _hated_ those grey eyes and the way they were shadowed by the mutant’s long, dark lashes – and smiled indulgently as one of his Sylveon’s ribbons crept under the collar of his v-neck shirt, trailing soft and slow and deliberate against its trainer’s skin. Lester bit the inside of his lower lip furiously, unable to tear his eyes away as the Pokémon’s feeler reached the bottom of the shirt, sliding out from beneath it to tug upwards at the hem, just enough to reveal the honey toned skin and tight muscle beneath it. Another of the ribbons came to curl around Daken’s neck, loose enough that it didn’t impede its master’s breathing, but tight enough that the cream fur covering the feeler was flush against Daken’s throat. Lester’s breath hitched, and, still wearing that lazy grin, Daken reached up to scratch the Sylveon under the chin. It was hard to tell whether the quiet purring was coming from the mutant or the Pokémon.

Finally, altogether too aroused and needing Daken to suffer for it, Bullseye spoke up.

“How come princess over there gets to have his Pokémon in the boardroom?”

All eyes turned to the two of them, and when Lester glared smugly across at Daken, he noticed that the Sylveon had retracted the feelers from around its master’s throat and down his shirt, innocently caressing its trainer’s hair and arms instead.

Osborn frowned deeply.

“Your insubordination isn’t appreciated, Daken,” he said. “Put that thing back in its Pokeball or you’ll be facing disciplinary measures.”

“Promises, promises,” Daken purred. He made no move to recall his Pokémon.

Osborn’s scowl deepened, but before he could spit another threat, Mac spoke up.

“How come he’s not gettin’ punished just for havin’ it in here? If it was any of us, you’d ‘a chewed us out and kicked our asses to the curb straight away.”

The problem was, Osborn didn’t yet know _how_ to effectively punish Daken. He’d done as much research as was possible on the mutant; details were vague and sparse, but Osborn had gathered that he’d undergone extreme conditioning from a young age, and proved resistant to conventional torture – and a slap on the wrist certainly wasn’t going to discourage him from any of his problematic behaviour.

Maybe he’d threaten to give Daken’s daddy a call?

No. Not yet. Osborn made a mental note to set aside some staff to dig up more dirt on Wolverine’s spawn.

When he found out how to hurt him, Daken was going to be receiving a _lot_ of punishment at his boss’ hands. Osborn was going to domesticate his Wolverine one way or another.

“Your Pokémon are significantly more dangerous than the one Daken’s got wrapped around his neck,” Osborn deflected. “But if he doesn’t recall it immediately, he’s going to be leaving the boardroom and entering solitary for the foreseeable future.”

Osborn could have strangled the mutant for the insolent roll of his eyes and that ever present smirk as he finally pulled the Luxury Ball off his belt and nudged it against his Pokémon, recalling it in a flash of red light.

“Moving on…” Osborn growled.

Lester sneered across the table at Daken, but the mutant was reclining easily in his chair, languid and smug, that arrogant smirk still plastered on his face. Daken ran his tongue over his top lip, and Lester’s hands clenched furiously when the mutant had the gall to _wink_ at him.

_Bastard,_ Lester seethed in his head. _Can’t wait to kill you when this meeting’s over._

But, of course, when the meeting ended and he and his Marowak jumped Daken and his Sylveon in the corridor, it was Lester that got hauled away and shouted at.

“Maybe a bit more nuance in future,” he grumbled to his Marowak when Hand and her Bisharp dismissed them. “Don’t worry, pal. We’ll get ‘em. We’ll get ‘em.”

The Marowak wasn’t quite so convinced as his master.


End file.
